


Bad Decisions

by artpopchild



Series: Doom Days [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Soft, Crowley is a mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, They don't know how to handle their achy breaky hearts, Vague mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artpopchild/pseuds/artpopchild
Summary: “Angel, do you have any regrets?” he blurts out. Aziraphale looks puzzled. “Why yes, of course, I believe everyone does.” The demon appears to be about ready to jump out of his own skin. “Do you regret this?”





	Bad Decisions

_Our secret is safe in the space of our shared silence. I will not speak unless you do, and we both know this is too precious to be forced into the confines of human words anyway._

* * *

The bell overhead the bookshop's entrance chimes angrily as the door is swung open with more force than necessary. Aziraphale closes the tome he's been reading and emerges from the back room curiously to find out who the unexpected visitor might be. Unsurprisingly enough, when he enters the main area of the bookshop, it is Crowley he sees standing there. He looks lost and unsettled, anxious even, like his feet have decided to take him on this trip rather than his brain and now his thoughts are failing to catch up.

“Crowley! I did not expect to see you again quite this soon. What is the matter, dear boy? You do seem rather upset.” The sound of the angel's voice coaxes him out of his stupor promptly.

“Angel, do you have any regrets?” he blurts out. Aziraphale looks puzzled. “Why yes, of course, I believe everyone does.” The demon appears to be about ready to jump out of his own skin. “Do you regret this?” He gestures vaguely between the two of them. “Whatever do you mean, Crowley?” “You know... the-the stolen moments... us... all of it. It just... All of a sudden everything seems like a chaotic cluster of bad decisions.”

Aziraphale frowns and steps closer carefully, giving Crowley the opportunity to back away if he needed to. He stops just short of the demon, observing him for a second and eventually reaching out for his sunglasses. Crowley tenses up as they slide off his nose gently, revealing a pair of swollen red-rimmed eyes. As the angel places the shades on a nearby side table he can't help but think that even in this dishevelled state Crowley still looks as beautiful as ever. His spiky flaming hair frames his face like a dangerous halo. His serpentine eyes almost glow in the flickering light of the bookshop. And his hips. Those gorgeous slim hips; the way they dance nervously from one side to the other as the demon fights the urge to pace. He really is a sight to be seen, worshipped even, Aziraphale muses.

The angel cups his jaw tenderly, his thumb caressing his cheekbone with so much affection Crowley fears his knees might give out. Soft baby blues bore into sharp marbles of gold. “My dear boy, if you are a bad decision then I long to make the same mistake over and over and over again until the morning breaks.”

“I love you, you know,” Crowley whispers into the cool air of the bookshop. “Oh, I know. I can feel it. You radiate it like sunlight.” Traitorous tears form in the corners of the demon's eyes and threaten to fall to his cheeks. “I love you, too, my dear, my love, my silly wily old serpent.” The angel wipes at a stray tear and kisses him sweetly.

“Why didn't you ever say something?” he breathes shakily, his eyes closing shortly as he nuzzles the angel's warm palm. “Well, you did not exactly scream it from the rooftops either now, did you?” They both know that this question rings so much deeper than anyone else would ever understand. To them it's not only an attempt at brightening up the mood in a situation that feels far too painful to be fair. It's a broken _Please, forgive me, I should have been stronger_. It's a _I care about you so much and I don't want any harm to come your way_. But most importantly, it's a _I'm sorry that we are both hurting so much and I wish things were easier_.

Crowley sighs. “So, what do we do now?” Aziraphale moves his hand from Crowley's face to grasp one of his and holds on tight. “How about a cup of hot cocoa for a start? And then... oh, I don't know... well, maybe there is some time left to make a few more mistakes while we still can? After all, if the world is truly ending, then let's stay up all night.”

Crowley stares at their clasped hands shyly. “Yeah... Yeah, sounds good to me.”


End file.
